Take the Celestra: an Alternate Version
by Aliana
Summary: Just some fun/stress-release at Starbuck's expense


Take the Celestra: an Alternate Version  
  
The workers were bitter. Bitter and angry. How could the rest of the Fleet not know of the hardships they faced? The endless centars demanded of them, the meager rations. Their bitterness had given way to something more, even . . . desperation.  
  
She had loved him once, on Caprica, despite his wavering and inability to truly commit. And even after he had fled to Athena when their relationship had gotten too serious. But that had been a lifetime ago. She knew that he had survived; she'd seen him visit the Celestra for routine electronics scans. Had seen him and wondered time and again why he had not looked for her. The remaining love had slowly eroded into anger and resentment. She was as close as the personnel computer; yet, he had never bothered to check, to look for her . . . had he cared so little, after all? Had it all been lies? She felt used. And the anger, pushed by the grueling centars with no respite, gradually turned to hatred.  
  
It had been with barely concealed loathing that she had spoken with him after the ceremony to honor Commander Kronus. His pathetic excuses -- always an excuse! -- and to say he still cared. Yet she had been so close, so close . . . exhausted, weary, while he gallivanted throughout the Fleet, playing triad, showing up on that IFB broadcast. The hero. "Hero," she spat the word in her mind.  
  
The seven workers held their breath, moving slowly, carefully, lasers ready, while their hearts pounded in their ears. It was the only way to finally escape the oppression. They would take the shuttle to the 22nd planet in the system, where they could live . . . live! Free from the oppression that passed as life here, aboard the Celestra. They had set their plan in motion by sabotaging the reactor so that the ship had been immobilized in space, separated from the Fleet until they could make the repairs. Now they just needed to get aboard the shuttle, and then they could be free.  
  
A technician was exiting the landing bay. The group froze, holding their breath, as he opened the door and stepped through. Bam! A hard slam to the back of the neck sent him to the ground, unconscious. The group of tense, anxious workers crept through the still open door, easing their way towards the shuttle craft. It seemed quiet, deserted. But the shuttle was still a ways away, out in the open.  
  
Aurora felt her heart threatening to explode in her chest, it was beating so intensely. A familiar smell and touch from behind. "Damen . . ." she whispered, feeling her resolve falter.  
  
"We can do it," he whispered back. "Just keep going."  
  
They had almost made it when a security guard stepped into view. He spotted them immediately, instantly determined their intentions, and drew his laser. The group of seven dropped behind crates and opened fire, panicking. The guard fired, too, rushing to the intercom to alert the bridge.  
  
"Frak!" Damen shouted. The group broke up as they tried to make it to the shuttle. Within centons, more security arrived. It was getting out of control. So many laser volleys. It was so hard to tell who was shooting at whom.  
  
No one heard two vipers land in a different section of the bay.  
  
Aurora crouched and dashed behind some crates, separating from Damen. She wanted desperately to reach the shuttle, to get out of this landing bay, to get away from the Fleet, to just be able to live again. To live. Taking a deep breath, she held her laser unsteadily against her chest, ready to peer around the crates, knowing that the shuttle was somewhere over there, not too far. Too far. She stole a glance.  
  
And her heart almost stopped.  
  
It was him. Starbuck. Him. And his back was to her as he scanned the other direction. In the intensity of the moment, her resentment and hatred burst to the surface. She stepped out, laser pointed at his back, and snarled, "You. You – bilge rat!"  
  
Starbuck swirled around. The sight of Aurora, laser now leveled at his chest, was so surprising, so unexpected, that he froze, unable to react. "Aurora!" he whispered in disbelief.  
  
"Filthy liar!" she spat. And pulled the trigger.  
  
Only his innate reaction to the tensing of her hand muscles saved him as the lieutenant dove to his left. Instead of his chest, the beam seared through his arm. As he collapsed to the ground, he rolled so that she had to stumble out of the way. Starbuck ended up on his back, his own laser aimed at her, all pain momentarily blocked by the incredulity of his situation. There wasn't time to flip the setting to stun. But even as her quivering hand pointed her weapon at him again, he couldn't shoot her. Expressionless, he stared at her and let his gun slip to the ground.  
  
Something in his eyes, something, broke through the hatred. She could not shoot him again, could not believe that she had done it in the first place. She turned to run for the shuttle, but came face to face with Apollo and two security guards. "Drop it!" yelled Apollo. "Drop it!"  
  
Aurora let go of her laser. It clattered across the floor in the sudden silence, a silence that told her that their escape had been thwarted. This was it. The end of their plan, their dream, their hopes to build a new live and escape the intolerable conditions aboard the Celestra. She felt totally numb as the security guard jerked her arms behind her back, snapped on the binders, and pushed her back towards the middle of the cargo bay.  
  
*******************  
  
"What were you doing?" Apollo whispered fiercely as he bandaged his friend's arm with a sterile pressure wrap.  
  
Starbuck was sitting against one of the crates, watching as the seven prisoners were being led aboard the shuttle. Following Commander Kronus's orders, they were to be immediately transferred to the Galactica to face charges of mutiny. As Aurora passed, the lieutenant stared intently at her, but she kept her eyes averted.  
  
Apollo tugged on the bandage in frustration. "Hey! Careful!" Starbuck winced and focused his attention back on his captain.  
  
"I said," Apollo repeated quietly but intently, "what were you doing?"  
  
"What do you mean?" Starbuck asked, grimacing. The initial shock of Aurora's actions had given way to the burning, throbbing of the injury, and his head felt foggy. Yet, he had a fair idea what Apollo was about to say.  
  
"I saw what you did," the captain whispered. "You lowered your weapon. She could have killed you!"  
  
"She almost did, if you recall." His weak grin was met by an angry glare from his friend. "Look," Starbuck said, his face now serious, "I froze, okay? I couldn't believe it was her – Aurora! And . . . . and," he tried to find the words to explain his actions. He took a deep breath. "I just couldn't shoot her."  
  
"Well," Apollo said, his tone much softer, letting his relief and concern show, "that was close, buddy. Too close." He put a hand under the lieutenant's good arm to help him up. "We'd better get going." He caught his friend as he stumbled. "Can you walk?"  
  
"Yeah. Just give me a moment," he said, steadying himself against Apollo and taking deep breaths to try to shake off the light-headed feeling. The captain had given him an analgesic from the first aid kit, but it was slow to take effect. Aurora had fired her laser from not much more than a metron; the beam had seared straight through his left arm, burning and cauterizing clothing, flesh, and bone, leaving little bleeding but rendering the limb useless. After carefully cutting away the material from his flight jacket and uniform, Apollo had treated the wound with an antibiotic/anesthetic/antiseptic spray and then covered it with the sterile pressure bandage. Next, the captain had used more of the bandage, the last from that kit and a roll from another, to immobilize the lieutenant's arm against his chest. Still, the arm throbbed, and Starbuck could feel the effects of physical shock setting in. "No. . ." he said finally, truthfully.  
  
Apollo motioned to one of the security guards, and the two of them supported the lieutenant to get him onto the shuttle craft. Once aboard, they laid him across several empty seats. Apollo pulled a blanket out of a storage locker to wrap around him and then secured him with several safety harnesses. "We'll be back to the Galactica in a couple of centars," Apollo said quietly as he finished. "Just hang in there."  
  
"Status report," said a voice from behind the captain. Commander Kronus. He looked with what seemed to be disapproval at the injured warrior, and then with obvious contempt at the four mutineers seated across from the lieutenant. One, Starbuck realized suddenly, was Aurora. Her face was tense but emotionless, and she stared straight head, refusing to look at him.  
  
"We're ready to launch, Sir" Apollo said, standing.  
  
"Condition of the injured?" Kronus frowned. He had already voiced his dissatisfaction that a seasoned warrior could be caught off guard by a mere technician.  
  
"I treated the wound," answered Apollo, "but he's in danger of going into shock."  
  
"I see," was all that the commander said. "Prepare to launch, Captain." Then he turned to head towards the cockpit.  
  
Apollo clasped a hand on his friend's shoulder and locked eyes, briefly, wordlessly, before following the commander.  
  
As the security guards also moved forward to strap themselves in and to prepare for the launch, Starbuck found himself alone with the four silent mutineers. Aurora, by pure chance – or maybe by Fate – was directly across from him. Next to her was another woman, who looked terrified and close to tears, then a tall, stocky man with clipped hair and his face furrowed with concern -- or anxiety -- and finally, a shorter man with curly, dark hair. Starbuck noted that this one kept darting glances at Aurora. He wondered if there might be a connection between the two.  
  
A moment later, the shuttle lurched slightly as it lifted off from the landing bay. They were under way for the Galactica. Starbuck, feeling numb now that the painkiller had taken effect but still light-headed with every movement, settled his gaze on Aurora. She ignored him, keeping her eyes fixed on a spot above him. He sensed a defiance in her, an unwillingness to look at him or away from him. And he sensed, almost physically felt, her anger and . . . loathing? The question burned in his mind: why? For Sagan's sake, why? Why had they tried to escape? And why was she so intensely angry at him? And the hatred . . . he could still see how it had burned in her eyes as she had pulled the trigger. She had wanted him dead. Why?  
  
Finally, could stand it no longer. "Aurora?" His voice cracked, and the words were barely a whisper. His mouth felt dry. He tried again. "Aurora?" This time it was loud enough that he knew she had heard him.  
  
She ignored him.  
  
"Aurora, why?" He paused a moment, then continued, "Why, Aurora? Why?" He could be as persistent as she was stubborn. He kept asking.  
  
The curly-haired man finally glared at him. "Leave her alone," he hissed.  
  
"I just wanted to know why you were doing this," Starbuck said to him. He noticed that Aurora let her gaze dart towards the man several times. "You were all obvious ready to kill to reach that shuttle. Why?"  
  
"Why should we explain ourselves to you, Warrior?"  
  
"Because I believe that you must have an important reason to do something so drastic. Aurora is not a killer."  
  
"Damen!" Aurora, breaking her silence, glared at the man. "He's baiting you. Ignore him!" She finally looked directly at the lieutenant. "We owe you nothing."  
  
"At least, tell me why you wanted to kill me . . . why am I a liar?" Starbuck asked. "Aurora -- " He closed his eyes as a wave of dizziness swept over him. After several deep breaths, he continued, "Don't you at least owe me that much of an explanation? You did almost kill me. And you did leave me with a hole burned through my arm," he said with a casual tone of voice. "Hurts like Hades, too . . ."  
  
Finally, after several more microns, her eyes flickered towards his face and over his tightly bandaged arm, and her mouth quivered. Her resolve was crumbling. "Shut up!" she hissed. Tears glimmered in her eyes.  
  
"Leave her alone!" said Damen in an angry whisper. "You've done enough, already!"  
  
"What have I done?" Starbuck turned a pleading gaze towards the man. He wasn't sure how much longer he could fight the dizziness. And despite the blanket he felt cold . . .  
  
"You, the commander – all the Colonial warriors!" said Damen. "You look the other way while we live lives barely above that of a slave!"  
  
"What?" Starbuck was having trouble focusing now, and wasn't sure he had heard correctly. It just didn't make sense, but then, neither did Aurora's actions . . . "Slave?"  
  
"Don't pretend that you don't know!" spat Aurora. "You gave Commander Kronus a medal for the way he and Charka treat us – making us work double, even triple shifts. Our rations cut if we don't meet deadlines or quotas. While you – you –" Now that she had let go, finally, the tears freely flowed down her cheeks and she stopped as she choked on a sob. After a moment, she continued, "You spend your time gallivanting around the Fleet. The hero. Who couldn't even be bothered to check and see if I was alive –"  
  
"Aurora. . . I . . ." Starbuck could not believe what he was hearing, yet . . . the pain in her voice and on her face told him that it was true. And it hurt very much to know that he had not known about it. He felt tears burn in his own eyes.  
  
"Save it. I gave up sectars ago expecting you to come rescue me. That's why we decided to resolve it ourselves."  
  
"No, listen! I should have checked the computer, but I was convinced you were dead." He gave her a pleading look. Aurora said nothing but did not look away. That, Starbuck knew, was a major concession. "The night after the Destruction, when the warriors went to the surface of Caprica to look for survivors, I went to your house. It had taken a direct hit . . . it was totally destroyed. I just thought . . . I was sure. . ."  
  
"Well, you thought wrong!" Her whispered voice was still filled with a deep, deep anger. "No. You just showed your true self – how you used me! – by not caring enough to even look . . ." She choked back another sob, then let it our quietly.  
  
"No, no, please believe me." Starbuck felt his own tears slipping hotly down his cheeks. He was desperate for her to understand. "I was just so sure after seeing your home. And then after seeing all of that destruction, I . . . I guess I was trying to shut out the past. To move forward only. I just didn't . . ."  
  
"Shut up! Just shut up!"  
  
Maybe, just maybe, she was beginning to believe . . . He changed his approach. "If you hate me that much, why didn't you kill me when you had the chance?"  
  
"I – I –" She was gazing at his face, finally, They locked eyes again. And in that briefest of moments, she knew. She could, as had happened when they were together a lifetime ago, and as had even happened after he had fled to Athena, she could read his soul. He was telling her the truth. And she realized that she had known it all along. "I'm sorry," she whispered, feeling a new kind of agony. "Oh, Hades . . . I'm sorry."  
  
"I'll be fine. I'll be fine, Aurora." Starbuck wiped the sleeve of his good arm across his face. "I just can't believe that it has been so bad for you –"  
  
"Believe, Warrior!" Damen seemed furious. "Now, leave her alone!"  
  
"No," said Starbuck, glaring at the man. He loves her, he realized. "Now that I do know, I want to help –"  
  
"There's nothing you can do now. It's too late for that," he answered.  
  
"No, it's not." Starbuck gazed at Aurora, who had her head hung low, her eyes closed, and was sobbing quietly. "Aurora, once Commander Adama knows the truth, they can't possibly blame you for what you did."  
  
"Felgercarb!" responded Damen. "He already gave Kronus a medal for it!"  
  
"Then let's hear what Kronus has to say about it," said Starbuck, fighting his own anger, now. His head was still foggy, but the adrenaline seemed to be helping to steady him. And he still could not believe that an honored friend of Adama's could knowingly treat these people as they claimed he had treated them. He couldn't believe that any decent human could treat another like that. But he also knew that Aurora was telling him the truth. He had to know, had to find out what was really going on. "Guard!" he said loudly.  
  
"What are you doing?" Damen looked horrified.  
  
"Getting to the bottom of this." He told a deep breath and shouted loudly again, "Guard!"  
  
However, Kronus himself appeared, as well as two security guards. "Is there a problem here, Lieutenant?" the commander asked.  
  
"Yes sir." And he carefully explained what he knew. Also, with some prompting, all of the mutineers explained why they had tried to escape in the shuttle.  
  
At first, Kronus had refused to believe it and had denied it, but eventually, he had admitted that he was not aware of the schedules that Charka set. He had left that responsibility solely to him. But could he possibly be that extreme? Finally, he had left after stating, "I'll take what you say under advisement."  
  
"What the frak does *that* mean?" said Damen, disgusted.  
  
"I think," said Starbuck, closing his eyes as he realized just how exhausted he was, "that from him, that was a major concession. . ."  
  
Lords, he felt weak now. He glanced at Aurora, then closed his eyes once more. She looked defeated, ready to cry again. That look, more than any she had given him before, cut deep. He had failed her. He *should* have looked for her, checked the computer records, at least. *At least.* How simple it would have been! Then, maybe he could have prevented all of this. Been there to listen. Prevented the sectars of hardships they had endured. Maybe . . . He understood her anger and how she could have hated him, loathed him; he was disgusted with himself, at the moment.  
  
He almost didn't notice the silence when all power to the engines was cut.  
  
"What's going on?" whispered someone.  
  
"We've stopped," said Damen.  
  
"Stopped?" Starbuck finally noticed it. He opened his eyes to see Apollo coming from the cockpit.  
  
"Hey, buddy," he said softly to Starbuck, then turned his attention to the others. "Ah, it would seem that we have a very good reason to believe your story," he said. "Apparently, Charka sent us out into deep space instead of back to the Fleet."  
  
"What?" said a number of voices.  
  
"That would mean he meant to kill us all . . ." said Damen, shaking his head.  
  
"That's what we've decided," said the captain. "And because of that, Commander Kronus has agreed that you all were under a great deal of duress when you made your decision to mutiny. So he's agreed to release you now in return for your assistance."  
  
"Assistance?" Damen sounded skeptical.  
  
"Yes. We could use help in recalibrating the sensors so we can trace the Celestra's ion trial, provided we can guess which way to head back." Apollo shook his head. That's going to be pure luck, I'm afraid.  
  
"And *if* we get back to the Fleet?" asked Damen, casting a worried look at Aurora.  
  
"I promise you'll get a very fair hearing."  
  
Damen glanced at Starbuck, who seemed to be asleep, finally, or unconscious. He looked pale. "What about Aurora?" the man asked, turning his attention back to the captain.  
  
"Accident," whispered the lieutenant, startling even Apollo. "Finger slipped . . . No intent . . ."  
  
*******  
  
Somehow, Apollo, Commander Kronus, the three security guards, and the seven technicians had done it. They had managed the impossible -- to locate the Celestra, which had gone dark once the shuttle had launched on its one-way course into oblivion. They had boarded the ship, had fought their way to the bridge. And they had paid a high price. Commander Kronus had been killed in the crossfire before Charka had been overpowered. He and his followers were now on the Prison Barge, awaiting Tribunal.  
  
Now, they all stood in formation to honor the man one last time. As Commander Adama completed his eulogy, the warriors all saluted as the casket was slowly propelled out into space.  
  
In the end, even the technicians had forgiven him, now that they knew he, also, had been deceived. They were grateful, as well, because he had recorded an official report before the shuttle had located the Celestra. In that report, he had, surprisingly – given that he *never* broke regulations or protocol -- recommended that the mutineers, save one, be cleared of all charges, given the circumstances. They were to be freed with not even a formal hearing. All but Aurora. However, at Starbuck's relentless insistence that the shooting had been an accident, that she had never intended to fire, even she had been released the next day.  
  
Starbuck, his arm in a proper sling, scanned the crowd as the people filed out. He wanted to catch her before she returned to the Celestra, to speak with her one last time. Finally, he saw her standing in a corner near the exit, watching him, looking for him, it seemed. He excused himself from his friends and walked slowly over to her. She looked as nervous as he felt, he noticed. He had prepared and rehearsed what he wanted to say to her, going over and over it in his mind during the day he had spent in the Lifestation. Now, he couldn't remember a word of it. "Look," he said at last, glancing at her, then looking at a spot on the floor, "I really am sorry. I didn't mean to be so callous . . ."  
  
"Starbuck," she said softly. "I know. I know how you are, how you react to things. It makes perfect sense to me now; you did what you had to do to keep your sanity after the Destruction. We all did. In our own ways. Mine just happened to be to take out my anger and frustration on you . . . I'm sorry." She paused, pointing with embarrassment at his sling. "Will you be all right?"  
  
"I'll be fine, in a couple of sectons," Starbuck answered. "Call us even."  
  
"What?" Aurora gave him an incredulous look.  
  
"It's a physical reminder of just how stupid I can be."  
  
"No –"  
  
"Let me finish," he said. "First you, then Athena . . . and almost Cassie, when I rushed off to find you on the Celestra. I have an incredible talent for handling love all wrong and doing stupid things. I did care for you. And for Athena. Now, maybe this time, with Cassie, I can get my act together."  
  
Aurora had to smile. "Starbuck . . ."  
  
"Take care, okay?" Starbuck looked beyond Aurora to where Damen was standing, watching them uncomfortably. "And take care of Damen."  
  
Starbuck turned to leave, but Aurora put a hand on his good arm, pulling him back around. Before she could lose her nerve, she leaned up and kissed him. He was too surprised to reciprocate. "Thanks," she said and quickly headed towards Damen without looking back. 


End file.
